


Fuzzy Red Hearts

by LizaCameron



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Holiday, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2019-05-30 14:23:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaCameron/pseuds/LizaCameron
Summary: J/D on the first Valentine's Day after Bartlet takes office.  Set to fit into the Seven Days Universe, this is the early J/D that eventually get together in that series.





	Fuzzy Red Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

I hate this holiday. It may not currently look like it, but I do. It's not even a real holiday, it's a fake occasion made up by corporate America. It's a fa-cassion. A fa-cassion invented to market chocolate. And flowers. And cards. The cards are the worst! At least chocolate and flowers are useful for eating and…smelling. 

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Landingham.” I say in a very chipper tone and set a pink cellophane wrapped package with a small card on her desk. 

"Happy Valentine's Day to you, dear. That's a lovely sweater on you… very festive."

"Thank you." I smile sweetly at her while groaning inwardly at myself. The sweater is part of the reason why I warned you that it doesn't currently look like I hate this fa-cassion. I succumbed to the hype and am wearing a bright red, fitted cashmere deep v-neck sweater. My mom gave it to me for Christmas. I'm not currently buying fine cashmere on my government salary. Actually, I'm not buying much of anything. Thankfully, I already had a decent professional wardrobe from the last job I held in Madison, Administrative Assistant at a temp agency. The day I quit my boss told me if I played my cards right I'd be Office Manager in two years. Office Manager of EZ Staffing, he said it like he was offering me the moon and the stars. Being told that a week after I'd broken up with my boyfriend was definitely a catalyst for change. My eyes wander to the left. To the door that leads to the most important office in the country. I can't believe the gamble I took quitting that job and leaving my home town landed me here. My heart swells with pride just standing in the presence of the door.

I'm shaken out of my thoughts by Mrs. Landingham's cooing over the Tweetie on the card. I think she knows it's a child's valentine that I picked up in a box of 32 for a dollar at the grocery store. I thought they’d be cute as gift tags for the cookies, but leave it to her to act as though I've done something miraculous. That's nice, making Ms. Landingham smile might be one good thing about this fa-cassion.

I set another cellophane bag on her desk, but this one doesn't have a hokey Tweetie card attached to it. "For the President, if he's allowed," I explain to Mrs. Landingham. During the campaign Mrs. Bartlet always watched his cholesterol like a hawk.

Mrs. Landingham gives me a knowing wink. "I don't think a cookie will hurt him. You're very thoughtful Donna."

That makes me blush as I continue on my cookie delivering way. I know that it seems like I should be the kind of person who loves this holiday, but I really don't. However, as you can see, I pretend like I do so other people don't get disillusioned. 

It's not that I was traumatized by some horrible Valentine’s Day; I've mostly just had mediocre ones. In high school the student council did this thing where you could buy a rose for someone and have it delivered to their home room. Sophomore year… no flower. Junior year… no flower. Senior year came and that was going to be the year. I had a boyfriend, but the flower was once again a no-show. It wasn’t heartbreaking, but it was disappointing.

Two years ago the ex had to study. Even though we had plans and it was the last minute, he said that studying came first and I understood. Although, now I really think that it was his study partner who came first.

Last year I'd been working for the campaign about a week. There were no flowers, no cards, no chocolate… unless you count Margaret handing out Hershey kisses. Although I did get three phone calls from Dr. Freeride asking when I was coming back, seems he thought I was kidding when I left town. I turned off my phone that night, even though he didn't stop calling and I did eventually succumb. But I didn't succumb that night. No, that night I spent half an hour listening to my new boss fight with his girlfriend on the phone and then we worked… all night long. Although that particular Valentine's night I did learn a lot about the psychology of the voter and how to use semantics to a campaign’s advantage during polling. And he did spring for Chinese food, with extra egg rolls. Actually, all things considered, among my Valentine's Days, last year would have to rank at the top. 

As for this year, what's to be happy about a day like today when I haven't had a date since… since I left the doctor for good last April? Yeah, it's been a while. You can do the math, but please don't do it out loud, it depresses me. 

Now this hasn't so much been a dating slump as I've been the busiest I've ever been in my life. And for most of the last year I didn't spend more than a night or two in one place. Dating is not easy under those circumstances, and to tell you the truth I haven't missed it. Actually, I've been much happier than I was in the last year of my relationship. I miss the sex, but, I've, you know, adapted. 

Truthfully, out on the campaign trail there were men. Lots of them. There was a cute guy named Carl. He worked in advance and would flirt. I remember Sam teased me about it in front of Josh and Josh grumbling something about Carl looking like Ted Bundy. I didn't think he looked like Ted Bundy and I think he was going to ask me out after the convention. But oddly he was reassigned shortly after that, apparently Carl and I just weren't meant to be.

However, it's not like I'm completely Valentine-less today. I did receive three cards. One from my parents which had cats on it, they are crazy for cats, one from my Grandma Moss which is, frankly, too raunchy to tell you about and one from my two-year-old niece Shana. It was red crayon scratchings on a piece of pink construction paper. It was definitely the best.

"Hey CJ." I greet as I shift my tray of goodies onto my hip and poke my head into her office.

"Donna!" She glances up from her desk, "What's happening?"

"It's Valentine's Day."

"It is at that."

"I made cookies." I hand her one of the cellophane packages and small card. 

"Look at that, you cook!" CJ looks and sounds impressed.

"Not really, I bake."

"…and it's Tweetie. 'Hope you have a gwwweat Vawentine's Day.’” CJ reads the card out loud and then looks back up at me. “That's cute and probably the most romantic thing that will happen to me today. So thank you." I study her a second. CJ is senior staff, but she's just about the only female in that group. Most of the rest of the women, who work in the West Wing on a day-to-day basis, are at a much lower level. On the campaign trail when CJ got sick of the boys, she’d hang out with Margaret and me. And sometimes she hung out with Mandy. By the way, I never hung out with Mandy. But it feels different now that we're actually here in the White House. It’s only been a few weeks and I'm not sure what the protocol is, you know, socially. But what the heck, it's Valentine's Day and if that Tweetie card is the most romantic thing that’s going to happen to her, she might want to be included. 

"Hey CJ,” I force my voice to sound casual like a person might if they were nervous about asking another person on a date, which is utterly ridiculous, but I still do it. “Uh… Carol and Margaret and… never mind."

"What?" She asks almost eagerly.

"Well,” Emboldened by her almost eager prodding I continue. “A couple of us dateless types are going to get some lunch. Sort of an anti-Valentine's Day lunch-"

"Count me in," she says before I can even finish. Smiling, I nod and then turn to go. Even if she's incredibly important person around these part, she's still CJ from the campaign trail at heart.

***

Josh doesn’t look up from what he’s working on when I enter his office. Yet he seems to know I’m there even though I haven’t made any noise yet. "Where ya’ been?"

"I was-"

"Did you get lost coming back from the mess again? I've told you you've got to use the west staircase otherwise you end up someplace called the steam pipe distribution… something…" He trails off when he finally looks up at me and his eyes go wide. “Whoa.”

“What?” I ask suddenly feeling very self-conscious by the way he’s looking at me.

"That's… uh… a… uh… very red sweater you're wearing."

"Yes." I glance down at said red garment. 

"I mean it’s… uh… really red."

My eyes narrow slightly, because it’s not _really_ red, it’s just red. "Yes, you said that, do you not like it or something?"

"No! I mean, yes, I like it. It's fine. It's just red." His eyes seem to roam over me. Is it hot in here? ‘Cause I feel a bit warm. Finally, Josh quits with the roaming eyes and speaks again, although, he has to clear his throat before he does so. "Why is it so… red?"

I have no idea how to answer that question as I resist the urge to fan myself. Josh must be warm too because I think I can see small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Finally, I come up with a gem of a retort, “I guess ‘cause that’s the color the sweater elves made it.” 

Slightly embarrassed, I glance back down to the sweater; it seems to be of a perfectly normal shade of red to me. Maybe it just doesn’t suit me. My mother said I looked radiant in it when I tried it on at Christmas and Grandma Moss said I looked hotter than a pistol, but mothers and grandmothers tend to exaggerate these things. 

“Were… uh… you wearing that earlier today? I don’t remember it from earlier.”

“I had a jacket on over it this morning, but it got a little warm.” Suddenly, I feel a bit horrified. It is a lot brighter and-- clingy might be word I’m looking for-- and let’s face it, lower cut than anything I’ve yet worn to work at the White House. However, it’s not exactly racy and in any other office in America it wouldn’t even cross my mind, but this is the White House and maybe I’ve overstepped the bounds of what’s acceptable. So far a lot of the women that work here seem to dress more conservatively than… say my grandmother. Okay, maybe not _my_ grandmother, since teenagers at the mall have been known to dress more conservatively than Grandma Moss, but other people’s grandmas, who are, you know, normal. I meet his eye a little fearfully. “Is it not appropriate or something?” 

“It’s uh… no, it’s appropriate, it’s just… red. It’s nice.” He finished and then quickly looks down at the papers on his desk. 

“Okay, um… maybe I’ll just go put my jacket back on.” 

“No!” He says emphatically and looks back up at me. At my startled expression he stutters, “Uh… I just mean… I didn’t mean to make you feel like you shouldn’t wear it. It’s a good sweater… that is a good color on you. You should definitely keep wearing it. Besides… uh… it is warm in here.”

“Okay.” I nod twice before blurting, “Besides the red is for Valentine’s Day.”

Now he pauses a second and studies me curiously. “You purposely wear red on Valentine’s Day?”

Why did I feel the need to justify the sweater? It’s a perfectly fine, not-really racy sweater-- even if it is tighter than anything I’ve worn in the White House so far. Anyway, I wouldn’t have brought up the Valentine’s thing if he hadn’t made such a big deal about it. It’s his fault, yet I still hear myself explain, “It’s festive.”

And yes… typical Josh, now he’s smirking. I should have known if I told him that he’d find something to smirk about. “Do your clothes always match the holiday?”

“Sometimes.” I smart back at him. 

He’s still smirking and now he regards me with mock suspicion. “You’re not going to try to talk me into some tie with cupids on it, are you?”

“No, but you might look cute in some red silk boxers for the occasion.”

Wait. What did I just say? Josh’s eyes go so wide that his pupils are swimming in a sea of white. I can’t believe I just told my boss that he would look cute in red silk boxers while we’re in the White House! There are many things wrong with this situation. First, red silk boxers; second, White House and third… boss! Even if my sweater’s not too racy, surely that comment was! I blame his smirk. If he hadn’t smirked at me, I never would have said something like that. I really am a decorous person in most circumstances, but sometimes around him I just…say things. Again, I blame him.

“Okay, I think I hear my phone ringing.” I have no idea what to say and he’s not saying anything at all, just staring so I definitely think it’s time to leave. Forgetting my mission of delivering cookies I start backing out of the room.

However, he stops me before I reach the door. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

He nods towards the pink cellophane and the card in my hand. I look down and finally remember my mission. Funny, I’ve been holding this the whole time and even with the roaming eyes he just noticed it now.

“Nothing.” I quickly mutter. Why did I say that? I originally entered his office with the express purpose of delivering cookies and now I’m denying it, even though I’m very obviously holding the evidence. It must be the dratted heat; I really need to talk to someone about turning down the temperature in this room. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

"Oh, well… it’s uh… a valentine treat." I walk forward and set them on his desk before instantly backing several steps away.

He looks down at the cookies as if they are aliens rather than heart shaped butter cookies with white frosting and red and pink sugar sprinkles. Glancing back up at me he asks, "What for?"

His voice squeaks in quite an odd way on that last word. I've noticed that Josh does that sometimes, I've decided it's endearing. "The previously mentioned Valentine's Day." 

"You made me cookies?" 

Oh boy, I better clear that up right now. First the red silk boxers comment and now he thinks I made cookies just for him. This could go down a very wrong road, very quickly. "No… I made cookies and I'm giving you some."

"Why?"

"Because it's Valentine's Day."

"What's this?" he asks as he points to the card.

My heart starts beating a little faster. No matter that half the people with offices in the West Wing received Tweetie cards attached to their cookies and I'm 25 years old, suddenly I feel transported back to third grade and the time I gave a Pebbles and BamBam valentine to Jake Goodland. That went about as well as this is going. Currently, I’m really regretting the cutesy decision I made to use the hokey Tweetie cards at all.

"It's part of the treat, to let you know the cookies are from me." I reply and try to appear calm and unassuming, despite the heat and the giving of Valentines to bosses. 

Josh eyes it suspiciously and then finally he picks it up. "For me?" 

"Yes."

"You got me a Valentine?"

All I’m able to do is shrug.

He sets it back on the desk and then a second later picks it back up again. "Should I open it?" he asks me so seriously that I almost laugh out loud, despite the fact that I’m totally on edge at how weird he’s being. Is it possible that in grade school little Josh Lyman never got one of these valentines? Involuntarily, I feel a pang in my chest picturing little Josh being left out. In my school you had to give one to every person in the class. No exceptions. Certainly, they did the same thing in Connecticut? Can't he tell by its small size what it is? 

"Opening is usually the traditional thing to do when presented with an envelope."

He's still staring at it. Should I tell him that I've already given a bunch out already? Although… it did just so happen that he got the bigger one. You know how in those packs of cards there's always one design of card that is just a little big bigger than the rest. By chance, that's the one that Josh got. In grade school it means that you might like, like the boy you give it to. Here it just means that it was up in the rotation when I got to Josh, that's all. 

Finally, he pulls the card out and looks up at me with slightly suspicious eyes. "It's Sylvester and Tweetie.

"Yes." I feel nervous. I shouldn’t feel nervous, but I’ve definitely got a textbook case of nerves at the moment. It’s ridiculous, I’m being ridiculous, yet they don’t seem to be going away.

"I like Sylvester." 

That makes me happy, so in spite of my nerves I find myself smiling. "Oh?" 

Josh wrinkles his forehead as if he’s trying hard to recall a memory. "Yeah, actually when I was little I used to wait through Looney Tunes just to get to a Tweetie/Sylvester cartoon."

"I didn't know that." Crap. Yes, I did. It's all coming back to me. One Saturday morning on the campaign we were in Oregon, or someplace that started with an 'O,' he was dictating and I was typing as fast as he talked-- which incidentally is quite fast and is probably why I got the permanent job in the White House-- anyway he was really on a roll when he stopped and was transfixed by the TV for the full three minutes of the cartoon. 

I'd totally forgotten that. I swear I wasn't thinking that Josh liked Sylvester when I picked these up at the Supermarket. What was I thinking? I remember my other choices, Power Rangers, Peanuts, Barbie, N'Sync & Backstreet Boys. Yeah, it was between Peanuts and Tweetie. And even though I'm a big fan of Snoopy, I was just drawn to Tweetie. So you see it had nothing to do with the fact that Josh likes Sylvester and Tweetie. 

That train of thought is interrupted by Margaret at the door. "Hey Donna… you coming?"

I turn back to face her. "Yeah… two seconds." She nods and heads back out into the bullpen where I can see the other gals gathering.

"Where you goin'?" Josh asks with more interest than usual.

"I wasn't in the mess earlier… actually the girls are all going out for a 'I Hate Valentine's Day Lunch.'"

"You hate Valentine's Day?" I nod, perhaps a bit too vigorously. He narrows his eyes at me, "Why did you bake cookies and buy me a Sylvester card if you hate it?"

"Because…" I almost lose my train of thought with the way he's staring at me. "Because I'm Donna. Uh… do you mind if I go to lunch?"

He looks at me hard for a few second before he waves his hand. "Have a good time."

***

"Let's go." 

Startled, Sam glances up from his computer where he’d been furiously typing away. "Where we going?"

"Grab some lunch."

"Actually, I'm working on the remarks for Friday so I was just going to get a salad from the mess and eat here-"

"Nah… you need a break. A walk. We'll go to the deli down the street with the good sandwiches and bring them back."

"But why?" Sam crinkles his brow before it smoothes and he nods knowingly. "Is this because you got lost yesterday? Because I've figured out how to get to the mess. I can lead us there and back safely."

I shake my head, "Come on, we've gotta run an errand on the way." 

That must do it because he shrugs, gets up and grabs his coat.

TBC…

Title: Fuzzy Red Hearts (2/2)  
Author: Liza C.  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: none  
Disclaimer: TWW is owned by people who drive expensive cars and own Malibu beach houses, that is not me, this is for fun and not for money.  
Feedback: Is delightful  
Website: http://www.liza-cameron.com/index.html  
Archiving permission: please ask  
Series: Seven Days 

***

"We're at CVS."

"Yes." I agree with Sam's statement of the obvious. We're about three blocks from the White House; the deli with the good sandwiches is one more block up the street.

"This is our errand?"

"Uh huh."

"What are we doing?"

"What does it look like we're doing?"

"It looks like we're shopping for Valentine Day cards." 

"Okay, then let's do that." I stare at the rows of cards and am blinded by the white, pink and red. With all these choices, how can anyone make an appropriate decision? I'd like for there to only be two choices, three at the most. It would be much easier to make a decision that way.

"Who are we… wait… you sly dog have you met someone?" Sam's eyes light up as he turns on me.

"Sly dog?"

"Yes, it means you're sneaky and horny."

This makes me bark with laughter. "I'm familiar with the saying; I just thought it was a little… pedestrian for the President's speechwriter."

"Just answer the question."

"I didn't meet anyone." Why would he think that just because I'm shopping for Valentine's Day cards?

Sam gets this sour look on his face, like he's just taken a big swig of spoilt milk. "Tell me you didn't."

"What?'

"Tell me you're not…"

"Tell me I’m not… what?"

"Are you back with Mandy?"

"No!" Just the thought of it makes me choke on the word. "God, no." I reiterate and take note of the way Sam sighs with visible relief. "You really hated her didn't you?"

"Actually, no, I didn't hate her, but I wasn't fond of you two together."

"Oh… yeah, well, me neither." We fought… a lot. And it wasn't as fun as it sounds. 

“So you’re not shopping for a Valentine’s Day card for her?”

I snort with derision. “I didn’t even get her a Valentine’s Day card last year and we were still dating then, I’m most definitely not getting her one this year.”

"So, if you're not buying this for the old girlfriend and you haven't met anyone new… then who…" He cocks his head at me, "Oh, is it for your mom? Because that's really nice, I should buy my mom one two. Although, now I wish I'd thought of it a couple of days ago, but moms will probably appreciate it even if it's late. That's a good idea… good errand." Sam bobs his head up and down as he starts looking at cards in earnest.

Without thinking, I just shake my head, "No, Donna had me sign something for my mom that I think was a card a couple of days ago."

Sam's currently smiling down at a card that appears to have a mama bear and cub on it as he asks, "So we aren't here to buy cards for our moms?"

"No."

"Then who-"

"Our assistants." I say it as if it's the most natural thing in the world. 

"What?" Sam's voice gets a little shrieky and he drops the mama bear and cub card and spins around to glare at me.

"We're here to buy cards for our assistants." What's weird about that? She gave me a card… so it must be a thing between bosses and assistants. Of course I’m 38 and have had many an assistant in those years and there’s never been an exchange of Valentine’s Day cards, but I don’t let that information weigh with me. Because everything is new, this is the White House and well…it’s Donna. It’s just different… I think. 

"Are you joking?" Sam looks a little wild eyed at the moment. 

"No?" My answer definitely sounds like a question. Frankly, I’m a little unsettled by his reaction.

"Great. We've been in office less than a month and you want to expose us to a potential sexual harassment lawsuit. That will be a record, even for democrats."

"Law suit?" I’m pretty sure my eyebrows just hit my hairline. 

Sam answers me with a small nod of his head.

"Donna and… what's your assistant's name again?"

"Kathy."

"Kathy. Donna and Kathy aren't like that."

"How do you know that Kathy isn't like that? You didn't even know her name." 

"Well, Donna's not like that." I say with confidence. At least I don't think she's like that. She doesn't seem like she'd be like that. Hmm… do you think Donna’s like that? No… nope, she gave me a card first, remember?

Sam just stares at me a minute before replying, "So then really we're here to buy a valentine for Donna and we can leave my assistant out of it."

"Fine." I don't need his help anyway, what does he know about Valentine's Day? Just because he looks like a movie star—that is according to many, many women I've encountered while out with Sam. Sometimes it sucks being his wingman-- doesn't mean he knows anything about what women like. I know what women like. I'm completely capable of choosing a valentine for Donna on my own. 

Whoa. Did he say valentine? Not a valentine, I better clear that up right now. "I'm not buying her a valentine."

"Then why are we here?"

"I'm buying her a Valentine's Day card." There, that should clear it up.

"There's a difference?" Sam looks skeptical.

"Sure… uh… a wife or girlfriend or lover type person gets a valentine; a mom or an assistant get a Valentine's Day card. It's more of a… friendly valentine greeting."

"You think of Donna like a mother?"

"Exac-" When what he just says registers, I start coughing… hard. Thinking of Donna like a mother must have caused me to breath through the wrong windpipe. The image of Donna standing at my desk this morning in her red sweater flashes through my mind and there is definitely nothing maternal about it. Actually, besides causing a bout of choking the thought of maternal feelings towards her is also a little nausea inducing. "No… no… no!" I finally manage to sputter.

"I don't know, Josh, clearly she does a lot of things for you. Much more than Kathy does for me."

"Well, Kathy's only been working for you, what, a month or so, I’m sure she'll get up to speed and do for you, what Donna does for me." 

Funny, Sam looks like he's trying hard not to laugh. Why would he be laughing? "I'm not sure that’s true. And I know one thing Kathy doesn’t do; she doesn’t buy my mother a Valentine’s Day card and then send it to her from me."

"Then Kathy must be abnormal. And Donna doesn't bring me coffee." I say that as if it makes my point. If Donna did "more" for me then she'd bring me coffee, right?

"Kathy brings me coffee."

"Oh." Seems like maybe all that should mean something to me, but right now I just have to focus at the task at hand. "Just help me pick an appropriate valentine greeting for Donna."

"Why are you getting her a card?"

"Because she gave me one. And cookies."

"Me, too!" Sam cries. "Maybe I should get her a card, too."

What? Sam got cookies and a valentine greeting from Donna, too? I just… I’m not sure… there seems to be some inappropriate cookie giving going on. As Deputy Chief of Staff I may need to look into this phenomenon. I'll start my investigation now.

"What do you mean, 'me, too?'"

"She gave me a Valentine and cookies too!"

Hmph. That is just wrong. "If she did, it wasn't a valentine, I'm sure it was just a greeting."

I watch as he reaches into his back pocket and sure enough he pulls out a small piece of paper and before he's even brought it to a stop I can make out a yellow bird. "See, Tweetie."

"Let me see that." I snatch it out of his hands and study it closely. It's Tweetie, no Sylvester. Ha! Mine has both Tweetie and Sylvester. The card says, 'You're a tewwific fwiend. Happy Vawentine's Day.' Terrific friend? Who does Sam think he's kidding, with that? That’s not a valentine, that’s barely even a greeting!

Instantly, I reach into my own back pocket and hand him my valentine… greeting. "Ha, what do you think of that?"

He studies me for a second and then with a knowing smile takes the card. What is with that knowing smile? I don’t like that smile, like he’s on to something I’m not. Trust me, he’s not. He only went to Princeton and Duke. I went to Harvard and Yale. He clears his throat before reading aloud, “You are a Tweet ‘art, Vawentine.”

I’d like to take this opportunity to point out that Sam sounds like an idiot trying to do a cartoon voice. But I ignore this golden opportunity to give Sam crap and instead revel in my victory. I point to my Sylvester card triumphantly. “See here, she thinks you’re a terrific friend, but she thinks I’m a sweet heart… sort of. And see mine is bigger than yours.”

Sam nods and seems to barely be suppressing a laugh. “It is,” he replies solemnly. I think he’s mocking me. The guy who just did a bad cartoon Tweetie voice has the nerve to mock me! Yet I can’t seem to stop.

“How many cookies did she give you?”

“I didn’t count.” Sam returns drolly.

“Because I had a lot of cookies. Enough, that they’ll probably last until next year, or maybe two years from now.”

Sam is now snickering at me, but once again he puts on his mocking serious face before he speaks. “That is a lot of cookies. You win, Josh. Your assistant clearly likes you best. Now can you pick out a valentine for her so we can go get our lunch?”

“I told you it’s not a valentine; it’s a Valentine’s Day greeting.”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, Buddy.” Sam nods and then points me back towards the endless selection of cards.

***

“To single women everywhere on Valentine’s Day.” CJ raises her glass for a toast and the rest of us follow suit. Let me be clear, the alcohol was CJ’s idea; the rest of us ordered sodas or ice tea before she ordered us a pitcher of strawberry margaritas. She informed us the strawberry was in celebration of Valentine’s Day, the tequila in honor of our single status. She claims one drink won’t hurt and she does far outrank all of us, so who are we to turn it down? 

We’re at Lauriol Plaza near Dupont Circle. My idea. I read about this place and have wanted to come since moving to DC. Besides, Mexican food seemed perfect for an I-Hate-Valentine’s-Day lunch.

Getting into the spirit, Margaret raises her glass. “To our first lunch out since taking office.” 

“Here, here.” Everyone raises their glasses a second time.

“Okay worst Valentine’s Day.” CJ announces. For someone whom I was afraid to invite, she really seems to be enjoying herself. Apparently, she needed some girl time as badly as the rest of us. She turns to her own assistant, “Carol?”

Carol finishes taking a sip and smiles. “Easy. Three years ago. This guy from the gym asked me out, he was hot, and I was excited. Things went okay through dinner. He liked to talk about himself, a lot, but he was hot, so whatever. Then at the movie…” She pauses and takes another sip and then looks at us all dramatically, “he unzipped his pants right there in the theater and actually… put my hand… and expected me to, you know, pet the monkey.” 

The whole table erupts instantly. “No!!” 

“You’re kidding!”

“Ew!” 

“What did you do?” Margaret makes a disgusted face as she asks, but it’s quickly soothed by another swig of margarita.

“I got up, high-tailed it out of the theater and found a cab home. Oh and I switched gyms.”

CJ is shaking her head. “I’ll tell you what I would have done.”

“What?” I look over at her.

“I would have looked the creepy bastard in the eye and then yanked his monkey as hard as I could.”

At that Carol chokes on her margarita and everyone starts laughing. Margaret waves us off. “Okay, I don’t think that can be topped, how about best.”

“Good idea,” Carol nods with enthusiasm and then much to my horror turns to me. “Your turn, Donna. Best Valentine’s Day?”

I shake my head quickly. I really would have done much better with the worst. “I don’t have a great track record with this holiday. There is no best.”

“Come on, you must have a best. Weren’t you practically engaged to that doctor boyfriend of yours?” Carol prods with a raised eyebrow.

“There is no ‘practically’ engaged. You’re either engaged or you’re not, and we weren’t. And he wasn’t really a romantic, besides always being busy with medical school. There was no best with him.”

“But you love this holiday.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

Everyone is looking at me quizzically as CJ snorts and challenges, “But you made cookies, handed out valentines, organized this lunch and you’re wearing red.”

Oh, yeah, that… my cover so as not to disillusion others. “I like to make it nice for other people, doesn’t mean I like it.” Now the mention of my red sweater, reminds me of my odd conversation with Josh earlier. Thoughts of me making comments about red silk boxers dance through my head, but I push that embarrassing memory aside. Glancing down at the offending garment, I grasp at the chance to change the subject. “Do you all think this sweater is inappropriate for the White House?” 

“No.” CJ is first in the answer and everyone else follows with a similar response, before she reassures, “You look fabulous in that sweater.”

“It’s not too… red?”

At that they all laugh. CJ shakes her head and asks, “Too red? How can something be too red? Why would you think that?”

“Uh, I guess, because of Josh. He kept talking about how red it is.”

“You’re taking sartorial advice from Josh? Half the time he sleeps in his suit, not to mention that he’s an idiot. It’s gorgeous and the color is… perfect for capturing the spirit of the holiday, now speaking of, back to your best Valentine’s Day.”

Damn, I was hoping they had forgotten about that. I feel heat rising in my cheeks. It’s hot in this restaurant, just like it was in Josh’s office. Or maybe it’s the spicy Mexican food. That must be it. Should I lie? I feel like I should lie. But honestly, I suck at lying. “I guess… uh… honestly, that would have to be last year.”

“Who were you with?” 

“Um…” I swallow hard to coat my suddenly dry throat. I’m not sure why it’s dry, what with the refreshing margarita and all. “My boss.” Obviously, I didn’t lie.

Margaret narrows her eyes at me and I can tell she’s mentally doing the calculations. You can’t pull the wool over her eyes, trust me, never try. “You started the campaign in early February so last year your boss on Valentine’s Day would have been… the same one you have now.”

I nod in agreement as I take a long sip of margarita. Accidentally I suck in a piece of strawberry and start coughing. As I sputter and Margaret whacks me on the back, I have a moment to collect my thoughts. I don’t know why I feel so weird admitting that. It’s not like any funny business was taking place. Or is taking place. There is no funny business whatsoever at all, then or now. But now they’re staring at me like there’s funny business. The coughing isn’t helping. I should have lied, made up some fabulous Valentine’s Day with Freeride. Unfortunately I can’t bear to give him any undue credit.

“You’re best Valentine’s Day was spent with Josh?” Yup, I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as CJ asks the question.

“I guess so.”

“What did the two of you do?” Carol asks suspiciously.

“We worked… and I listened to him argue with Mandy on the phone.”

“Working and witnessing that train wreck of a relationship about to end was your best Valentine’s Day?” CJ asks incredulously.

“Well, yeah…” And as I think about it, it dawns on me why it was the best. “For the first time in my life I was doing something that I wanted to be doing, something meaningful and important. And working for Josh I suddenly found myself learning something new every single moment. It was so exciting and I was good at it and I remember thinking I was a part of something great. So yeah, realizing I’d finally found direction in my life was definitely my best Valentine’s Day. Besides, I was broke and he sprung for Chinese.”

They’re all staring at me and I’m putting all my energy towards not sweating. But then suddenly they’re all nodding like it makes sense and I’ve said something profound. And the funny thing is I’m pretty sure I have, at least profound as far as my life is concerned. Just then Margaret turns to CJ and announces that it’s her turn and I’m off the hot seat. 

***

 

When I get back to the office the first thing I do is grab a bottle of water. Let me be clear, I’m not drunk. I’m just mildly feeling the effect of one and a half strawberry margaritas. I’m still perfectly capable of conducting the business of the nation, or of helping Josh conduct the business of the nation.

I take one deep cleansing breath, to make sure I’m getting enough oxygen and I sit down at my desk. That’s when I see it. A bright red envelope on my desk with Donnatella printed in block letters across it. 

I’m not sure, but it looks like Josh’s handwriting. 

Okay, the not being sure part was a lie, because I would know Josh’s handwriting anywhere and that’s it. I’m just surprised to see it, why would Josh’s handwriting be on a red envelope? A red envelope that happens to be on my desk, addressed to me. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe I am drunk. 

Carefully I pick up the envelope and turn it over in my hand. Since that doesn’t yield any new clues, I decide to take the next step, which means opening the envelope and taking out the card. It’s a big green frog. Make that a big, goofy green cartoon frog wearing white boxers with red fuzzy hearts on them. The frog is cute and I’m pretty sure I’m smiling.

After I get my fill of staring at the cute frog, I work up the courage to open the card.

The inside reads: ‘See? I toad you I look cute in my underwear. Happy Valentine’s Day.’ And beneath that it’s signed by Josh.

I’m still smiling. He gave me a card about how he looks cute in his underwear and it’s making me smile. I suddenly feel much better about the whole red silk boxers thing from earlier. 

A minute later I’m standing in his doorway holding the card. “Did you leave this for me?”

I’ve obviously startled him with the question because it takes him a minute to answer. “Oh, uh…yeah.”

“Why?” I ask, but I can’t keep a shy smile from spreading across my face.

“It’s a greeting.”

“A greeting?”

“A Valentine’s Day greeting, like… uh… your Sylvester card and cookies.”

“It has a frog.”

“Yes.”

“He’s wearing valentine boxers.”

“Yes.” Josh seems to be holding his breath.

“It’s cute.”

A look of relief washes over him. “So you like it?”

I smile at him and nod. “Thank you; it’s a very… nice… valentine greeting.”

“Good, because Sam didn’t like the card at the store.”

“Why?” I study him quizzically as I ask, although, mostly I’m intrigued by the fact that he went card shopping with Sam. Actually, I’m intrigued that he went card shopping at all. It’s not something I pictured him doing… ever.

Suddenly, Josh is making an effort to look anywhere but at me. “He thought it made me vulnerable to a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

That takes me aback. “A sexual harassment lawsuit? From me?”

I can tell he’s self-conscious, but he does manage to meet my eye. “I told him you weren’t like that. And that you would think it was… uh… funny. I think it was just the mention of underwear in the card that concerned him. So he wanted me to reiterate that this in no way is me suggesting you see me in my underwear. The underwear is only in relation to the frog.” He makes a point of gesturing to the red, fuzzy hearts on the frog’s boxers. “But I thought it was funny because of… um…you know, before. And I didn’t explain to him our private joke.” 

That makes me smile. Josh and I have a private joke. Even if it began as a randomly inappropriate comment I made about him in red silk boxers, it gives me a warm fuzzy feeling.

“I like it… and I got the joke.” Before continuing, I clear my throat. “Thanks for going out and getting me… this.” I wave the card at him.

He nods and he looks both relieved and a bit on edge. It’s an odd combination. “Since you’re… you… and went out of your way for everyone else, I wanted to make sure you got a valentine greeting, too.”

I feel a huge smile break across my face and feel something tug in my chest when I meet his eye. Okay, that’s not good; things in my chest should not be tugging. Maybe it’s just the strawberry margarita? Whatever it is, I’m going to pretend like it didn’t happen. To that end, I say the first thing that pops into my mind. “This is actually my fourth valentine greeting.”

“Fourth!?” 

There’s that squeaking thing he does again and his smile has disappeared. 

“Uh yeah, fourth. One from my parents, one from Grandma Moss, one from my niece and now this one from you. That’s four.”

“Oh, four, yes… family, that’s good, nice.” Hmmm… the crinkles in his forehead have smoothed again. 

Things are getting weird in here, I think I better leave. I gesture towards the bullpen. “So I’m just going back to my desk now.”

“Okay.” He nods quickly and then moves to sit back down behind his own desk. 

“I’m going to take my frog with the fuzzy red heart boxers with me.” I wave the card at him again and I’m not entirely sure why I just said that, since there would be no reason for me to leave the card.

He nods and then with an odd expression on his face watches me back out of the room. 

After plopping back down at my desk, I stare at my frog with the fuzzy red heart boxers and then look back to the door to his office. I can’t help it; the tugging in my chest is back. Maybe this fake occasion isn’t so bad after all.

The End.


End file.
